The Other Side of the Fence
by ordinarycrayon
Summary: 1943, Nazi occupied, Auschwitz, Poland. I hate it. Not just my home, but everything. I hate the time we live in, I hate that horrible sign that’s all over town, in my sister’s rooms, on my father’s uniform, but most of all, I hate what my father does.
1. Chapter 1

1943

Nazi-occupied, Auschwitz, Poland

I never wanted to move, but when you father is a soldier, it's something that you have to do. My new home is slightly smaller than the one we had in Germany. I hate it. Not just my home, but everything. I hate the time we live in, I hate that horrible sign that's all over town, in my sister's rooms, on my father's uniform, but most of all, I hate what my father does.

I've been taught for the past few years that Jewish people are terrible and that I should never even make eye contact with them. I never understood why when I was younger and just did what I was told. Then one day my friend Jane introduced me to her cousin, Sanne, who was Jewish. I didn't know this until she left. Sanne was a wonderful girl. She always was polite, she was funny, and she gave me a lot of advice on a boy that I liked. We hung out everyday for a week after that. That following Monday, I never saw her again.

After that, I never agreed with my father's views on politics. My sisters sure did. They followed Hitler like they followed God. They had posters of him all over the place and every time they tried to put them in my room, I tore them down. They questioned why all the time and I told them I preferred to have dreams, not nightmares.

I wasn't stupid. I knew that father was stationed in Auschwitz so he could help with the camp there. My father told me to never go there. I planned to defy there wishes. I'm 14, practically a women; they couldn't tell me what to do.

"Good morning, father," Gretel said, sitting down at the table.

"Good morning, father," Louise said as well.

"Gretel, Louis. Ada, aren't you going to say good morning?" I looked up from my plate.

"Good morning."

"Good. Now, girls, we have a very, very special visitor coming to see us in two weeks." Louise and Gretel perked up.

"Who?!" They shouted simultaneously.

"You all know how close I am with many of the upper soldiers. Well, they have decided to hold a meeting here and one of the men coming is Hitler himself and he is going to stay here for a few days." The girl's jaws dropped and their eyes widened with excitement. I dropped my fork.

"Hitler?"

"The Hitler?"

"That's the one." My father smiled with pride. I shuddered. It was like my father was in love with the man. If he loved him so much, why didn't he marry him? They were both single men. My father hadn't always been that way though.

My mother was beautiful, like one of those girls you would see in the movies. She always had the prettiest dresses and wore the brightest of lip sticks. She always was smiling and singing and dancing. She was my best friend.

In 1939, she died of cancer. We didn't know what to do then. I didn't leave my room for hours. Some days I played sick just so I could stay home and sleep on her side of the bed, holding the teddy bear she gave me when I was 3. My father was never the same again. I didn't think he'd fall in love, but he fell in love with politics.

I excused myself from the table and went outside. I walked down the road, past the Nazis. One smiled at me. He looked about 2 years older than I was. I looked away.

I knew I was there when I saw the fences. They were probably a good 3 feet taller than I was. I went over to the side of the camp and looked around. There were people of all ages outside working on something. There was a little girl who looked around Louise's age that was being forced to work as well.

In my opinion, it was terrible and inhumane. In my father's opinion, they were getting what they deserved.

"What are you doing here?" I froze. I was sure the Nazis were here and planning to take me back to my father. The voice asked again. "What are you doing here?" I turned.

What I saw was not a Nazi, but a boy, about 17 years old, dressed in tattered clothing with a number on his arm. He was behind the fence

"I felt like being here." He laughed a bit.

"Here. Of all places you wanted to be in hell?" I shrugged.

"Why not?" He laughed again and I laughed too. "What's your name?" I asked.

"Peter. Peter Silverburg. And you? Your name?"

"Adelaide Blauvelt, but everyone calls me Ada."

"Very German. I take it your not a Jew?" He sat down and I did too.

"I'm not on that side of the fence am I?"

"True. Then why are you over here?"

"Because… I hate what my father does, I hate Hitler, and I hate that horrible swastika that hangs outside my house. I'm just like you. I want this all over and for the Allied forces to come, and come soon." He smiled. "You know, you must have a lot of hope for being on that side of the fence."

"Ehh, I figured if I tried to be optimistic, I might last longer." I pulled some grass from the ground and threw it.

"So, Peter. Tell me about yourself."

"There's not much to tell. I was born, lived, hid, then damned here." He looked away. A whistle blew and he jumped up. "I have to go."

"Will you be here tomorrow?"

"I'll try."

"Well, adieu." He smiled and ran back to the huts.


	2. Chapter 2

I didn't understand as to why I was so curious about this boy, I just was. I managed to sneak out of my house and get over to the camp without anyone noticing. When I got there, he was sitting, waiting for me.

"Hi," I said as I sat down.

"Hello." He looked exhausted, much worse than he did before.

"Are you alright?"

"I've been better." He looked over to the side to see if any of the guards were coming. I looked at him for awhile, taking in all of his features. He was handsome, like one of those boys you'd see modeling in an American troop add. His hair hadn't been shaved off yet, like most others had. It was blonde, a little shaggy but she figured it had been from being in hiding for so long. His blue eyes popped out when the sun hit them. "So, Ada, right?"

"Yes."

"Tell me, how did you end up here?" I went into the whole story of my coming to Poland and how I missed my old home so much. I told him about Sanne and how she was taken away. I poured my thoughts, my secrets, and my father's lies all out to him, a stranger, who was supposed to be my enemy. Peter gave me a comfort like I had never felt before and I had only known him for a few hours. "What do you do in you're free time, Ada?"

"Well, I like to write, I suppose. I like to write poetry and stories about romance, but nothing to terribly sentimental. I'm much too old for that. I like to compose as well. What do you like to do? Before this happened?"

"I loved to read. I could read at least five books in a day. I haven't read in so long though. I doubt I could anymore. I would love to be able to read again. That's the first thing I'm going to do when I get out- if I get out." I looked at Peter. I could tell that he missed the outside world more than I could imagine. I couldn't bear to think of what they made him do day after day. The whistle blew again and Peter got up.

"Can you come tomorrow? I really enjoy your company."

"Of course." I started to walk back home. That same young soldier who smiled at me yesterday smiled again and waved. I didn't return the gesture but I smiled a bit. If you could call smirking smiling.

I thought of the things that Peter had said to me. How he longed to be able to read again. A world without reading was impossible for me to think of.

About halfway down the road, I had made up my mind. I would go and meet Peter again and bring him a surprise I know he'll be happy to see.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks seemed to go by too quickly. I had to help dress the girls because father had to go and get… him. By lunchtime, we were waiting by the door standing from youngest to eldest.

The door opened and I saw Gretel's and Louise's faces light up. Father walked in with a few men behind him.

"Girls, this is Mr. Adolf Hitler. He will be staying with us for the next few weeks." Hitler smiled and held out his hand. Louise shook it.

"Mr. Hitler."

"Please, call me Uncle Adolf."

"Uncle Adolf," she giggled. He took Gretel's hand.

"This must be the young Gretel."

"Yes, sir. I mean, Uncle Adolf." Then he got to me.

"Ahh, yes. The beautiful Adelaide, excuse me, Ada. I've heard so many wonderful things about you." He smiled at me. I didn't look up from the ground.

"Ada, answer Mr. Hitler when he talks to you." I looked up slightly.

"Thank you," I murmured. I turned to my father. "May I go now?" He nodded his head sharply. I walked outside into the foyer. As I was about to open the door, I caught my father's words.

"I'm terribly sorry about her. I-I don't know what's happened. I think the war is too much on her."

"Yes, well. At least she's on the right side."

I grabbed my bag that was next to the door and ran. I didn't stop until I got to the camp.

"What's wrong, _schattig_*?" Peter asked when I finally got to him.

"That… that man is here! I hate him!"

"What man?"

"Hitler," I spat. Peter looked horror-struck. "Anyway, Peter, I brought something for you."

"What is it?" I pulled a book out of my bag. Peter's eyes widened. "Oh, Ada. Thank you! This is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me."

"It's in French. It's a whole book of poems. Would you like me to read you some?"

"Yes, yes, please." I smiled and opened the book. I read through the book, every so often looking up at Peter's excited expression. After awhile, it started to rain.

"I should probably go." I stood up and put the book back into my bag.

"Ada?" I turned.

"Yes?"

"Would you please come back tomorrow?" I smiled.

"Would I ever let you down?"


End file.
